


Bell

by Keibey



Series: you are the angel I chained to the ground [5]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keibey/pseuds/Keibey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Slaine's reactions surprised Inaho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble set between Spreading Wings and Flight. Happy birthday, our favourite tiny war genius! ( ﾉ^ω^)ﾉﾟ
> 
> In falconry, birds sometimes wear bells so the handler can hear the bird if it's obscured by trees or in the bushes. The more you know. (˚☐˚! )/

There was a certain fascination in watching Slaine accept the wrapped box from him with a wary expression and proceed to unwrap it cautiously. The blond gave the phone nestled in the box a confused look, green eyes shifting to Inaho in askance.

“The UFE finally approved you having a phone,” Inaho explained, taking a seat on the couch as well, “It’s an encrypted line, but we’re to refrain from using your real name or discussing sensitive information.”

“I thought it was your birthday?” The blond took it out, inspecting the screen and the applications.

Inaho blinked; he hadn’t expected Slaine to know. “It is. Did one of the guards tell you?”

“Yeah, before I left.” Slaine looked up at him again, still wary. “How is this your birthday present?”

“I get to talk to you,” he answered simply, and Slaine snorted, gaze flitting away.

“You don’t even stop to think if I’d want to talk to  _ you _ .”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Of course,” Slaine rolled his eyes.

Inaho pulled out his own phone, keying in the number to Slaine’s new phone. “Do you want to be Bat or Seagull?”

“Both reflects your horrible naming skills,” the blond shot back, which he took as permission to chose. Inaho looked at Slaine, sitting in the square of sunlight on the couch, and found himself typing in Angel. It would raise fewer questions when Calm inevitably looked over his shoulder. He called the number and hung up once the phone began to ring in Slaine’s hands.

It was unexpected when his phone vibrated with a message just as he was about to put it away, and even more surprising when the ID came up as Slaine’s. He thumbed it open, reading the short text in a glance. _Happy birthday, Inaho._

Inaho looked up and met the green eyes. “I’m right–”

“I know that,” Slaine cut him off, “Just accept it like a normal person.”

“Thank you,” he said obediently, letting the warm feeling settle in his chest.


	2. resound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special extension to this series written for the AZ Puzzle Game hosted by the wonderful, sweet [Rosiel](https://kanaevil.tumblr.com/)!

Inaho pulled out his phone again at the persistent buzz, reading the text on the screen. He unlocked it and started typing out a reply, feeling Calm lean closer to try and read the conversation upside down. “Someone from work?”

“No,” he said simply, tapping send and meeting Calm’s confused gaze.

“Dude, don’t tell me–”

“Your orders.” The part-timer at the stand looked bored and tired, handing them the crepes robotically with an even more mechanical smile. Inaho felt his phone vibrate again in his pocket as he took his share. “Please come back again.”

He turned to walk back to where Inko and Nina had saved them spots on a nearby bench and handed Nina her crepe. His phone buzzed just as he unlocked it, and he skimmed the texts quickly. _They’re broadcasting another documentary again_ , the first one said, followed by, _The interviewee obviously has a crush on you. Has she even met you before?_

Inaho considered the question, deciding it was likely meant to have a tone of incredulity – a jab at his personality, if Slaine’s usual complaints were anything to go by. _Unlikely_ , he typed back just to be purposefully dense, and then added, _Do you like crepes?_ When he looked up from his phone, there were three pairs of wide eyes on him. “Is there something on my face?”

“You’re _smiling_ ,” Inko said, so surprised it almost sounded accusing, and Inaho blinked. He hadn’t noticed.

“It’s not his sister either,” Calm added with a confused look.

“Kaizuka Inaho-kun,” Nina started seriously, “Are you hiding a girlfriend?”

“No,” he answered, looking down at his phone when it buzzed. _I hope you’re not asking just so you can say you know how to make it._ Inaho sent a quick reply: _I do know how._ “Why would I hide a girlfriend?”

“You’ve been really secretive for a while now. First you started getting busy on your days off, then you started buying books that are obviously not for you,” his phone vibrated again, and Nina finished triumphantly, “and now you’re texting someone with a _smile_!”

Inaho shrugged and read the text: _I’m going to kick you when you get back._ That didn’t seem particularly romantic to him. _That’s not good incentive to come back_ , he returned. “How is that evidence for having a girlfriend?”

“What about that necklace?” Inko looked like she hadn’t really meant to say anything, but Nina nodded enthusiastically.

“What necklace?” Calm asked, baffled.

“He bought a really nice necklace from this jewelry store a while ago,” Nina supplied helpfully, “It wasn’t for Yuki-san either.”

Calm turned to him with awe. “Dude.”

“There’s no girlfriend.” Inaho glanced down, not having bothered to lock the screen. _It’s your apartment. Where else would you go?_ He looked up when Calm clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You know we’ll accept you no matter what. I mean, I know Japan’s not as cool with it as Canada is but– You can tell us.”

Inaho tilted his head. “About?”

Nina stepped in when Calm seemed to flounder. “What he’s trying to say is that we’d be okay with it if you had a boyfriend, Inaho-kun.”

“I already know that,” he answered, not seeing the point, and watched them all exchange a glance. Inaho took the time to check his phone. _What do you want for dinner? Your new magazine suggests salisbury steak._

It was a good suggestion; he thought he might have seen a sale in a supermarket they had passed by. _I’ll pick up some beef._

“Okay, Inaho-kun,” Nina caught his attention by waving her hand over his phone, “Can we meet this person you’re texting?”

Of all the people who might recognize Slaine from the pirated broadcasts, his friends would be the closest to a hundred percent probability. “It’s not my decision to make,” he said, turning his thoughts away from planning damage control and suppressing the reflexive urge to keep Slaine safe. “I’ll ask tonight.”

  
  


Slaine stared at him for a long time when he asked after dinner, as he was washing the dishes and the blond was drying them. “These are the same friends who fought with you on the Deucalion.”

“Yes,” Inaho answered as he handed the next plate to Slaine.

The blond ignored the plate. “They _hate me_ , Inaho.”

“Because you were the leader for a fraction of Vers?”

“Because I personally _shot out your eye_.”

Inaho considered it for a moment, and then reached out to make Slaine take the plate. “I was considering a prosthetic eye. I’m not on the front lines anymore, and my benefits cover ninety percent of it.”

“Whether you can replace it or not isn’t the point,” Slaine said, but at least the blond started drying the plates again, “I was the last one to see you with both eyes.”

“And you’ll be the first to see me with them again.” Inaho shrugged, and he noticed the way Slaine’s lips thinned out the corner of his eye – obviously he had missed something again. “They have an option–”

“Don’t say it’s another engine.”

“It’s not,” Inaho brushed off the interruption, “it lacks the AI. It’s an experimental optic camera that converts images to electrical signals that the brain can interpret. They want to test the picture quality against the analytical engine.”

A beat of silence settled over them, nothing but the splash of dishwater and the clink of dishware. “What are the risks?”

“I’ve already ensured that if anything happened to me, your freedom will remain more or less the same. Yuki-nee said she would look after you.” Inaho watched Slaine clutch the necklace through the shirt, and he ran through the question again in his head. “It’s an invasive surgery on the brain – the risks are greater than most operations.”

“You’ve decided already?” The blond’s hand still hadn’t loosened from the pendant, and Inaho found himself making a decision on the spot.

“The camera isn’t necessary, and will likely put too much stress on my left eye,” he answered evenly, “My benefits cover less than twenty percent of its cost. A prosthetic would be better.”

His words startled a huff from Slaine that Inaho recognized as the kind of sound that happened when Slaine didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t hold it in, and he noticed the slope of the blond’s shoulders relax. “Of course. I almost forgot how much of a housewife you are.” With the last of the dishes on the rack, Slaine turned to lean against the counter. “I’ll meet them, if that’s what they want.”

“It’s your decision.” Inaho turned back to clean up the sink. “They’re just curious.”

“Maybe I am too.” Slaine was looking out the window, green eyes tracking some birds. “I want to know what kind of people they are, to put up with you for so long.”

“I will come pick you up after work tomorrow,“ he said, “I’m restricted from bringing people over.”

Slaine snorted, quietly. “You’re not allowed to text during meetings either.”

“Phones in general aren’t allowed in meetings,” Inaho corrected as he pulled out his.

  
  


They settled on meeting at the base first, in the relative privacy of Nina and Inko’s shared room on base, because Calm shared with another engineer. There were also fewer female crewmembers, so it was less likely that any were around to overhear their initial reaction. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Slaine asked him, taking the knit hat from him and eying it incredulously.

Inaho shrugged. “The UFE recently decided that you can’t leave without a disguise.”

“Couldn’t you have gotten me another hat?” the blond asked, turning the grey and white hat over.

“I don’t see the problem.”

Slaine sighed but tugged it on grudgingly, the fake dog ears standing up. Inaho handed the glasses over, and the blond put them on, nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar weight for a moment before adjusting it. “They do realize I’ve been all over town already.”

“It’s likely they don’t,” he answered, reaching out to straighten the crooked hat – he had never felt the need to let the UFE know how he spent his free time. Inaho stepped back to wind on his own scarf when Slaine started to shift restlessly under his hands, and then they were out into the cold air.

No trains went directly to the base, but it was close enough. Inaho kept his face half hidden by his scarf even inside, not particularly bothered by the looks he got as he swiped his ID through the lock into the barracks. He had never been there, but Nina had given him directions earlier on the phone, and he found the right door without fuss.

It was Nina who opened it, a wide smile on her face when she saw him. “Inaho-kun!” she greeted, and then her eyes shifted to Slaine behind him. It wasn’t quite recognition on her face, but he pulled Slaine into the room with him and closed the door just in case. The other two had looked up from the card game they were playing, the same sort of curiosity and almost recognition in their eyes.

“This is Slaine,” Inaho said simply, unsurprised when their eyes widened. The collective shout let him know he had been right to meet here instead of the cafe that Nina had suggested.

“ _Slaine Troyard?_ ” Inko’s voice was that tone she used when he had done something especially weird.

“Kaizuka now, actually,” he corrected, and Slaine gave him a side eye look that told him the blond would have sighed if the situation was less tense. Calm’s mouth was hanging open, and Inko seemed to be stunned speechless from his correction.

Nina blinked, and started slowly, “The person you were texting was Slaine.”

“Yes.”

“And your last name is now Kaizuka,” she finished, with a tone and look Inaho didn’t know how to interpret.

Slaine nodded, expression neutral; it only ever looked like that when the blond was on guard. “They don’t let dead men transfer.”

“Dude, you smuggled him out by marrying him!?” Calm had quickly stood, hands flailing around probably to keep balance.

“It was an official transfer,” Inaho said, and Calm stopped looking as frantic. “The UFE is allowing supervised cohabitation.” Shocked silence met him this time, and Slaine shifted uncomfortably beside him.

“Wait,” Calm held up a hand, “that lock you got me to make for your apartment – it’s because of him?”

“The UFE wanted assurance that he wouldn’t leave unsupervised,” he explained, “You can still climb down the balconies.”

“For the last time, I’m not going to climb down,” Slaine answered, indignant – the blond wasn’t thinking, irritation winning out over caution, and Inaho felt himself smirk a little.

Nina made a little sound that caught both their attention, and the blond immediately withdrew from leaning into his personal space. “You’re living with the ex-leader of Vers.”

“A fraction of Vers,” he corrected, “the UFE propaganda and the Vers’ official claim–”

“Inaho,” Slaine interrupted him, green eyes meeting his with steely determination, and Inaho just calmly stared back.

“Are you okay with that, Inaho?” Inko’s voice was quiet and uncertain, the concerned tone he remembered from days in the war. “He’s the one who–” She trailed off, biting her lip; she probably knew his answer before he gave it.

He reached up and touched his eyepatch. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have pushed for it.” He watched Inko’s eyes flicker to Slaine, lips a tight line.

“Is he the one you gave the necklace to?”

“Yes.” Inaho tilted his head. “Why?”

Calm and Nina looked at each other as Inko stared blankly at him. “I guess,” Nina said carefully as she comfortingly pat Inko’s back, “we just want to know what your relationship is?”

“We’re roommates,” he said, deadpan, and watched all three of them stare at him in various levels of incredulity.

Nina raised her hand slowly. “You do know you’ve been holding his hand the whole time, Inaho-kun?”

Inaho looked down as Slaine went rigid beside him and considered their joined hands, trying to pinpoint exactly when the phantom feel of kataphrakt controls changed and finding that he couldn’t. It was still fundamentally the same. “I made a promise.”

  
  


Inaho opened his eyes slowly. There was no change to his vision, of course, but the sensation of something in his left eye socket other than the ocular implant after a year and a half without took a bit of adjusting. Slaine looked back at him, expression serious and meeting his gaze straight on.

“I considered getting one with a blue-green iris,” Inaho said flatly, and the life came back into the green eyes. Slaine snorted and stepped aside so that he could see himself in the mirror. The prosthesis was a good mimicry; they had matched the colour well, and the mismatched pupils were hard to notice against the brown. The movements of the eye weren’t exactly sluggish, but it was less responsive than the analytical engine. It was a good thing he never had a habit of averting his eyes.

The ocularist was smiling when Inaho turned to her. “You should take it easy for today. If you feel any discomfort or pain, come back straight away.”

“I will,” he answered automatically, and tucked the medical eyepatch he had been wearing into his pocket. He checked his phone out of habit as they left the clinic, letting Slaine walk in front of him down the stairs. “Was there anywhere you wanted to go?” Inaho stopped at the foot of the stairs, uncaring when the passerbys sidestepped them to get by.

“We’ve been _everywhere_ ,” Slaine pointed out, looking at him incredulously. Inaho shrugged a shoulder and watched the blond expectantly until the green eyes shifted to the right, thinking. “The crepes you had last time; were they good?”

They ended up eating the crepes at the park nearby, just a bench away from where Inaho had earlier that week. The same bored part-timer had handed him their crepes, indifferent gaze sliding right off his left eye, just as he thought it would. Inaho watched Slaine pick the snack apart in fascination – not the awestruck kind he had seen on the Empress’ face during her time on Earth, but a sense of rediscovery. The green eyes shifted to him, and he reached out with an extra napkin to wipe away the cream at the corner of Slaine’s mouth. He blinked at the way Slaine flushed pink, sliding his hand against the blond’s neck to check for a raise in temperature.

Slaine grabbed his hand and pulled it away, holding it between them on the bench with a mumbled, “We should go home soon.”

“If you want,” Inaho said, cocking his head, but the blond seemed to find the rest of the crepe fascinating. He turned his attention to their hands instead, the weight and feel and warmth, trying to remember if he had held them like this before. They didn’t leave until the sun was setting and the wind eventually picked up, Slaine letting out a quiet laugh at how Inaho immediately ducked into his scarf.

“Home?” the blond suggested, smile small but warm, and Inaho let Slaine pull him to his feet.

The delay meant that they were only halfway through cooking dinner when Yuki-nee rang the doorbell. Inaho could hear her thanking Slaine for opening the door, the sound of her shoes hitting the genkan as she kicked them off loud even over the crackle of the oil. They were talking quietly about her day, and despite her complaints she looked inexplicably happy when she walked into view. “It’s been so long since I’ve had your home-cooked food, Nao-kun!”

“It’s been awhile since you’ve had home-cooked food at all,” he said, turning back to the fish he was grilling. “Have you tried cooking?”

“I have,” she huffed, taking a seat at the dinner table and sprawling over it, “Sometimes.” Inaho watched Slaine school a knowing smile into something milder as the blond turned and placed a mug of tea in front of Yuki-nee. “Why is Slaine-kun nicer to me than you are, Nao-kun?”

“He’s polite,” he answered, unconcerned with the way they both exchanged a glance and laughed. Slaine came back to his side and started chopping the vegetables again, lips still curved in a smile. Inaho focused back on the grill, pulling it off the fire just in time to save the fish from charring. His bouts of inattention were getting more frequent. “Have you filed your taxes yet?”

His sister groaned, voice sounding muffled. “I’ll do them next weekend.”

“If you don’t file them soon, it’ll be tax evasion.”

“I don’t want to hear it from the person who has a roommate who doesn’t have to pay at all,” Yuki-nee huffed, “No offense to you, Slaine-kun.”

“None taken,” the blond assured her, green eyes clear with mirth.

“He does,” Inaho corrected, going back to shifting the fish to the side of the plate to make room for the daikon.

“What?”

He looked up from the grater at the surprised question from his sister. “Slaine pays taxes.”

“ _Why_?” Yuki-nee stared at him like he had grown a second head.

“He’s a law abiding citizen.” Inaho shrugged, sidestepping the elbow that Slaine tried to jab him with. Obviously he had said something, and he ran the statement over in his head – he supposed it was ironic. “He only pays a third of what you have to.”

“But he’s unemployed.”

“The UFE considers the living expense budget as his income, so it’s taxable,” he explained, fully knowing it made no sense; he suspected that the higher ups were just trying to keep as much money away from Slaine as possible. “He has tax benefits from being married.”

Inaho paused in his grating when Slaine dropped the knife onto the cutting board. Yuki-nee was finally sitting up in her chair, echoing, “Married?”

“Yes.” Inaho tilted his head.

“To who!?” His sister stood and placed her hands on the table – she had gotten a lot more protective of Slaine over the last year.

“To me. It’s in our family registry,” he pointed out calmly, watching the way Yuki-nee brought a hand to her forehead like she was getting a headache. He glanced at Slaine and found the blond flushing.

His sister started slowly, in the tone that she used when she was trying to be patient with him, “You married him for tax benefits?”

“I’m exempt from taxes because of my military service.”

“Then it’s for him?”

“No; it makes him one of my emergency contacts, and gives him medical power of attorney.” Inaho found one of the tea towels and wiped his hands off, using a pair of chopsticks to put the grated daikon onto the plates with the fish. “If something happens to me, you both will have more leverage against the UFE. The tax benefits is a bonus.”

There was a bit of silence before Yuki-nee finally sighed, sitting back down. “Nao-kun, what am I going to do with you?” Inaho tilted his head, setting the food onto the table. “Are you okay with this, Slaine-kun?” The blond made a noise that might have been assent, turning quickly away from them to resume making the salad. Yuki-nee shook her head. “I guess you can always file for divorce when the time comes.”

Inaho paused in untying his apron, distracted from asking his sister for clarification by the way Slaine brushed past him, face still pink. He pulled the apron off and folded it away, the unfamiliar emotion in his stomach keeping him from agreeing. “You should be more worried about your taxes.”

“I said I’ll do it!”

  
  


Inaho woke up that night feeling fingers shift his hair away from his left eye, fingertips just barely brushing against his skin. He opened his eyes and found green ones watching him in the dark. “You don’t sleep on your right side.”

“I felt like a change,” he answered, shrugging the shoulder he wasn’t lying on.

“Does it hurt?”

The touch, the concern; it must have been the nightmare about Novostalsk. “No, just different.”

The fingers didn’t withdraw, and Inaho wondered how it would feel to brush the blond hair aside like Slaine had to him, if the nightmare had been bad enough to leave the hair damp with sweat. He sat up instead of following the compulsion, feeling the fingertips skim against his cheek, and caught hold of the hand before it could fall limply to the bed. There was no resistance when he led the blond into the kitchen, flicking on all the lights. Slaine looked pale, as Inaho had expected, and him letting go changed the expression to something closer to lost. He could feel the green eyes on his back as he moved around the kitchen to make honeyed milk, unsurprised when the blond didn’t move from the spot.

Inaho turned and offered the drink to Slaine, and the blond snapped out of whatever it was, hands slowly curling around the purple mug. The green eyes glanced up from the gently steaming milk as Inaho leaned back against the counter, and he merely stared back, letting Slaine decide.

The slender fingers had time to draw one restless circle on the purple pattern of the mug before Slaine tipped forward, forehead resting against Inaho’s shoulder. Inaho brought his arms up in something that was almost habit now, his hands on the blond’s back letting him feel Slaine relax by degrees, taut muscles unwinding under his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” he returned the question, feeling more than hearing the huff of mirth.

“It’s painful,” Slaine said quietly, “but sometimes it’s not so bad.”

“That’s an improvement,” Inaho commented flatly, “I’ll get it to ‘I’m glad I’m alive.’”

Slaine laughed, warm against his collarbone. “That would be a lot of work.”

“I’ve got the rest of our lives.” He felt Slaine tense against him – it was hard to figure out the reason without the other tells. The blond’s hand came to rest on the front of his shirt, lightly over his heart, and he wondered if it was an attempt to track his pulse.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. Happiness is hard to earn, and harder to keep.”

“I don’t make empty promises,” Inaho answered easily, “And I never promised you’ll be happy.”

The blond’s huff of laughter was more wet sob than mirth, this time. “You’re horrible.” Inaho turned his head, but he only got a faceful of blond hair, the strands soft against his cheek and distinctly not damp.

“Slaine,” he said quietly when he could feel slight telltale hitches in the blond’s breathing, “look at me.” Slaine pulled back, tears making the green eyes bright and leaving trails down the pale cheeks that were beginning to colour, but the smile on the blond’s lips was genuine, warm.

Inaho blinked, mind blank for a moment, and he reached out unthinkingly to cup Slaine’s jaw. Slaine started but leaned tentatively into his touch, one green eye closing as Inaho lightly ran his thumb over the damp cheek. They were a lot closer than he remembered being, but he didn’t want to pull away, and apparently neither did Slaine.

“A second chance?” The blond’s voice was just a whisper, quieted by the fear, apprehension, _hope_ that Inaho could see in the green eyes.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, but just as softly because of the warm feeling settling in his chest, “I promise.”

They leaned in and met in the middle with just the barest touch of lips, just enough to feel the softness and the warmth, just enough for Slaine to take Inaho’s breath with him when the blond shifted back. Green eyes met his, and the vulnerability in them pulled at Inaho to close the distance again, mixing their breaths in soft, brief touches. He heard the mug settle onto the counter behind him with a thud as he slid his hand into blond hair, felt the fingers curl carefully into the back of his shirt instead and the hand against his chest move to ghost over the corner of his left eye. Slaine finally relaxed against him, warm in his arms, and Inaho eased back just until he could catch the green eyes.

“I’m glad that you’re here,” he said, watching the way the blood rushed to darken the blush on Slaine’s cheeks – it was a nice colour on the blond.

Slaine reached up and pulled Inaho’s hand out of the blond hair, weaving their fingers together with a small smile. The green eyes were bright and alive as the blond pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.


End file.
